In silence the party obeyed the order, though their hearts burned with shame at their humiliating position. As the last weapon splashed into the heaving water, Nordhu advanced from the tunnel, walking with a slight limp. The hounds, who had retreated with their master, whined piteously as the priest moved over the beach. Their terror of the man seemed to overcome all their natural courage.
“Stand where ye are,” Nordhu called, “and make no attempt to follow me, or ’twill be the worse for ye.”
So the adventurers stood, and watched him toil painfully across the shingle. Evidently he had fallen and injured himself in the tunnel, at the time when the four had heard his cry. Towards the plain they had crossed so recently he stumbled.
“Curse it! we’ve lost him!” muttered Seymour savagely, as the light of the priest’s jewel faded from view; then suddenly a savage bellow rang out of the darkness.
“’Tis Muswani,” cried the Ayuti; “I had forgotten him. He is loose on the plain, and has doubtless attacked the priest.”
An instant later the bellow was repeated, and the priest reappeared, scuttling down to the water’s edge with the giant elk pounding along behind him, mad with fury. Here was a factor in the game for which Nordhu was not prepared. If he used his explosive ball to destroy the great elk, he would be defenceless against his human foes, and he well knew that he would receive but scant mercy from them. Therefore he took to the water, hoping to swim out beyond sight of the Ayuti’s bellicose steed; then return to the shore at a point some considerable distance away.
“Good old hoss!” Silas cried, as the elk plunged into the water after his escaping foe; but his sentence broke off into a gasp of amazement as a hoarse shout broke from the engineer:
“The Seal! The Seal!”
Far away over the tumbling crests of the incoming waves shone a bright light—the searchlight of the Seal.